Sticks and Stakes
by RoseFrederick
Summary: Harry gets assigned a strange case that sends him to California, only to arrive and realize someone else is already on the job.


**Sticks and Stakes**

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A/N: This was written for the AO3 exchange Crossovering 2017 for MiraMira.

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It is just a little over five years since the Battle of Hogwarts saw Voldemort defeated once and for all. Even with the dark wizard indisputably defeated, not everything in the aftermath has been simple and easy. On the scale of the wizarding world as a whole, so many are dead or missing, and so much has to be rebuilt and reorganized to fill in the gaps - Hogwarts, the Ministry, the Wizengamot. On a personal level, Harry Potter still finds himself randomly ambushed in weird places by Rita Skeeter wannabes. Things are getting better, but complete stability is going to take time.

Directly after the war, Harry had become an auror. The rest of the Ministry was a mess, but the Auror Department was several degrees worse. Only so many had survived the purges of Voldemort's puppet regime. Of those that stayed through it, many had been deservedly herded off to Azkaban or were currently fugitives. The remaining fraction that had acquired no significant taint of corruption largely ended up redistributed to other departments. Kingsley Shacklebolt was doing more in the Minister's seat of office than he could staying as an auror, for one. Others had gone to the Department of Mysteries or the Wizengamot.

The two or three individuals left otherwise were generally not suited all that well to positions of responsibility. As such, despite Harry technically being a junior member of the department, he was often given the most high profile cases and assignments. It's still disconcerting to think about, but personal notoriety aside, Harry really is one of the most experienced wizards in the department. Despite most of that experience being decidedly unofficial.

So when the Department of Mysteries sends up a memo detailing some kind of fluctuating magical emanation from southern California, it comes straight to Harry. Apparently whatever it is has broken half their long-distance monitoring instruments and their attempts to contact MACUSA about the disturbance have been met with ignorance. Which is how Harry ends up waiting to take an international portkey to the other side of the world to figure out what's going on.

It won't be Harry's first international trip. He doesn't generally like having to trade on his fame, but he's made concessions over the years in certain circumstances. After Voldemort, the British wizarding world has more than a little bad publicity to clear off their international reputation. They're generally less welcome, but the Boy Who Conquered? Well, for a lot of places, that's an entirely different prospect. At least Minister Shacklebolt is someone Harry personally respects and the man knows how to ask Harry for such favors nicely. Besides, now that he's free of the threat of Voldemort and no longer unhappily tied to the Dursleys, it has been nice to actually have the chance to travel and see more of the world even when he's doing so on business.

His first stop is to check in with the satellite office of MACUSA on the west coast, located in Los Angeles. As Harry enters the magical portal through an alcove in the public library, he's looking forward to seeing a little of the American version of wizarding government. Leaving by the same entrance almost four hours later, he's primarily frustrated.

Granted they were more than happy to assist the famous Harry Potter, but their assistance had reminded him of the bumbling incompetence of the Ministry under Fudge. They'd noticed a disturbance from the area Harry had been sent to investigate. They'd actually been monitoring emanations from the area for years. Monitoring, carefully recording, and _doing absolutely nothing_ about it _._

Most of the time he'd spent in the office had been going through reams of recorded data. There hadn't been one huge, worrying, recent surge of magic from the area in question. The general level of magic had been gradually increasing for just under a decade, with a few irregular surges of activity that had exploded briefly and then died down again. At no point had MACUSA seen fit to send anyone to investigate further, despite the fact that there was an entire muggle town camped directly on top of the thing and that the readings indicated dark magic. When he'd asked why they'd never taken any action, the Unspeakables he'd talked to had seemed confused by the question before stuttering out some unconvincing excuses about it seeming unimportant. Harry manages to make it back out of the office without telling anyone just what he thinks of that, but it's a closer call than he would like.

It's a nice enough spring afternoon for southern California, and so Harry travels by broom the rest of the way to the actual site of the disturbance. He pauses at the edge of the town, disconcerted. It's the middle of a sunny, pleasant afternoon and the entire place seems deserted. He can see no people, no cars, the traffic lights themselves are dark. Not only that, but the crackling feeling of magic in the air is so strong even on the outskirts of the town that he can feel the hair all over his body trying to stand on end.

He's never experienced anything like it. Maybe it's age that's taught him caution, or maybe it's just the intensity of the magic. Either way, Harry starts casting every diagnostic spell he can think of rather than flying directly into the town. He doesn't think the magical field will affect his broom or the disillusionment charm he currently has cast over himself, but since he has no idea what exactly the magic field is capable of, he'd rather not find out the hard way.

Unfortunately, the results he gets are weirdly inconclusive. All of his spells tell him that there is a huge concentration of magical energy in the area. They can't agree on if the magical energy is focused into spells, or creatures, or some kind of ambient magic. Neither can they agree on whether the magic is dark or not. Some diagnostics say no, some say yes, others give no result at all - and the one previously functional device he borrowed from the Unspeakables back home is a cracked and useless paperweight the moment he takes it out of his pocket. He puts the device back and slides his wand away as well.

He's still hovering in the air, trying to decide whether or not to move forward into the town at his current height or move closer to ground level for safety, when he spots movement in the distance. Harry squints and realizes that what he's seeing is a big yellow school bus. As he adjusts his position to be more on a direct line with it, Harry realizes three things. One, it's moving much faster through the deserted town than seems entirely safe. Two, Harry has to blink and look again, but yes, the ground behind the bus is falling in on itself at an alarming rate, turning into a massive crater. Strangest of all, three, someone seems to be hanging onto the top of the bus.

Harry pulls his wand back out from his sleeve holster, but remains hovering with it in his hand, watching. He holds his breath, anxiously focused on the bus that continues to careen through the empty streets just fast enough to stay ahead of the expanding circle of destruction. If the bus starts to fall behind, he's going to intervene. He has no idea if those on the bus are muggles and he knows the laws are far more strict about maintaining the Statute of Secrecy over here, but he doesn't care. Bad enough the whole town seems to be getting swallowed up – he can only hope it's just as deserted as it first seemed.

Perhaps only a quarter mile from where he hovers, the destruction finally seems to run its course and the bus comes to a stop a few seconds later, still precariously near the edge of the new massive crater. Harry flies closer to where the vehicle is stopped, hoping that whoever is on that bus will know what just happened.

As he watches, the person who was hanging on to the top of the bus easily jumps off. It's a blonde woman carrying a shiny red axe. That's odd. He's not sure if it's magic odd or simply odd. The doors of the bus open and others spill out. Harry hovers even lower, trying to hear their conversation and catching something about a spike having caused all of this?

All of them look bloody and battered, as if they'd been physically fighting something. Yet at this short distance he can almost feel waves of magic emanating from the group, not just the center of the crater. At least certain members of the group, the redhead wearing a green top that sparkles slightly in the Californian sunlight most of all.

Together, most of them gradually walk to the edge to look at the destruction as they chat among themselves, Harry invisibly hovering along. Something about Slayers? And the mall? It's almost like they're speaking in a code he doesn't know. The start talking about what they're going to do now, and Harry finds himself considering whether or not he should reveal himself and simply ask what the bloody hell happened here. Technically it's not something he should do, but it's the kind of thing he usually finds himself able to get away with as the chosen one. Before he has completely decided on a course of action, however, the decision is taken out of his hands.

The blond at the center of the group who he thinks may be in charge in some way turns a piercing gaze to his exact location and demands sharply, "Show yourself!"

He should be invisible, but while half the group looks confused, several of them peer intently as if they can almost see him. Deciding that nothing is to be gained by pretending or trying to fly off, he cancels his Disillusionment charm.

"Are you seriously riding a broom?" Harry opens his mouth, but the guy with the eyepatch doesn't actually seem interested in his answer, as he immediately turns his head to address the redhead, "Will, I thought you said that wasn't a thing?"

The blonde completely ignores the aside, still looking at Harry with mistrust. "I've had a long day. So make this quick, who are you and what do you want?"

Slightly nonplussed, he answers, "I'm Harry Potter," and then he pauses to see if the name gets him any kind of a reaction.

The tall girl with the long brown hair retorts, "As if!"

Well, that's certainly a new reaction, at least. Harry relaxes minutely anyway, since if these people know his name, he's not breaking the Statue of Secrecy.

At least that's what he thinks until the blonde raises an eyebrow and asks in a perkily sarcastic tone, "So you're a fictional character?"

"What? No!" Harry has no idea what she's talking about, and is on the verge of saying so when someone else chimes in.

The oldest member of the group clears his throat and then speaks up with an English accent it startles Harry to hear in this part of the world. "Actually, those particular books are based upon -"

He's cut off mid-sentence by another exclamation from the dark-haired girl. "Harry Potter is _real?_ Harry Potter is real _and you didn't tell me_?" Harry has to wince at the volume and shrill tone her voice achieves, and he's not the only one. Though the older man may be flinching from the accompanying punch to the arm.

Still, this is becoming even more weird and surreal than the giant hole in the ground they're all still standing around. The one disconcertingly leaking waves of magic he still doesn't have an explanation for. But before they get to that, he really needs a different explanation. "Books? What books?"

Before any of them can answer Harry's question, yet another girl hops off the back of the bus and strides over, asking, "So are we going to a hospital, or what? Because we don't really have enough medical supplies or expertise to treat some of these wounds. Standing around here hoping for slayer healing to fix everything isn't really the best plan, guys."

It sends a jolt through the crowd, and Harry finds himself awkwardly offering to help. If he can gain their trust that way, hopefully they'll be willing to eventually explain, what, exactly, really happened here. Afterwards, Harry can do whatever needs to be done to prevent it happening again and obliviate everyone involved if necessary.

The woman in charge gives him one more intense, judging look before saying, "Okay, you say can help? So help."

Harry lands his broom and follows the group back onto the bus, setting it aside in one of the empty seats. He had initially noticed the group did look rather battered, but seeing those in the bus he has to upgrade that assessment dramatically; they look like they've been through a war. He feels several pairs of eyes watching him closely as he pulls out his wand and performs the first few healing spells, but when his initial patients show obvious improvement, the scrutiny palpably lessens. He feels the bus' engine rumble to life, but makes no protest as they start to drive off for parts unknown. He really has to know what happened and it's clear right now is not the moment to get his answers.

It would be an unforgivable abuse of power to stick Rita Skeeter back in a bug jar permanently, Harry thinks glumly a few hours later. Most of the Sunnydale gang is strewn bonelessly about on the furniture in the lobby of an empty hotel in LA. Apparently a friend of Buffy's owns it and offered them the space when she'd called from the bus to confirm they'd survived and mentioned Sunnydale was gone. Harry had shamelessly eavesdropped on the conversation but it hadn't made anything clearer at the time.

After their arrival, Xander had ordered an absurdly large amount of pizzas from a local delivery and the most injured of the group had been carefully moved into upstairs rooms with beds to sleep it off while everyone waited for the food to arrive. The redhead who had introduced herself as Vi had volunteered to stay there and keep an eye on the wounded in return for a promise from Giles to make sure she got her fair share of the pizza. Although there were some fairly severe injuries, between Harry's magic and some of the fastest healing abilities Harry had ever seen, thankfully all of them seem likely to recover.

Now, having gotten the whole story of slayers and the Hellmouth, Harry understands why the girls were all healing so fast. Buffy, Giles, and Willow had told the story, with the occasional commentary from Xander and Dawn.

Of course, first they'd told him that his life was a series of books published in the muggle world. He still can't figure out how Rita Skeeter got away with that one. From the sound of it, it's far too late to do much of anything about it, unfortunately. Just thinking about it is mortifying. Still, at least some good seems to have come of it. Giles vouching for the wizarding world and himself being real along with several rounds of questions to the effect of "did you _really_..." was likely the reason they were so forthcoming to the stranger in their midst.

As their own fantastical, nearly unbelievable story had unfolded, Harry found himself astounded, horrified, disbelieving, and so many other emotions it would be impossible to name them all in turn. Yet in the end, he can only take their words as truth. He'd felt the surges of magic and he'd watched the collapse of the Hellmouth. He can see, even now as they're all relaxed, the weight of having the fate of the world on your shoulders in Buffy's eyes. He's doing his best to forget that look, but years of seeing it in the mirror leave the familiarity undeniable. He can even recognize Hermione and Ron's determination to share a burden they can't really fully understand in the close-knit group that surround her. If those bonds seem a little frayed right now for reasons they didn't share with Harry, well, that's not exactly unfamiliar either.

Harry has known since he was eleven that magic existed and the world was full of strangeness and danger as much as wonder. Still, he'd had no idea of the extent of the things that were out there in the dark – nor the number of times the world had almost fallen to evil that had nothing to do with Voldemort. He has no idea what the wizarding world knows, or what he's going to do now that he does. What he does know is that sitting here among a group of people who just saved the world and are bickering over the last slices of pizza like it's no big deal, Harry has never felt so simultaneously worried and yet hopeful for the future.


End file.
